Crushed Hope
by adeadfreelancer
Summary: 20 years ago, the unified forces of Cobra and The Decepticons defeated their enemies, and merged Earth and Cybertron. There is no more G.I. Joe. There are no more Autobots. While the survivors attempt to keep their heads down, there are still those who fight. Snake Eyes seeks revenge, Arcee fights to survive, and Hot Rod fights for hope.


No one ever thinks the world will end, until it does. The end of the world can be traced back to a specific day. December 23rd, 1732. The birth of Richard Arkwright. However, this is merely the beginning of a long running chain of events that spans centuries. Besides, if we were to allow Richard to be a deciding factor, we would have to include the birth of something far more sinister, far longer ago. The world did not end because of a man, or a machine, or even a weapon. It ended because of greed, and a desire for power.

The organization known as Cobra was founded somewhere between three hundred and one thousand years ago. the organization itself is responsible for the confusion in just where it begins. Some say it has its roots in ancient Greece or Japan, stemming from cults worshipping strange gods. Others say it was founded as a secret society to influence the world. One rumor is that they began as a group of mercenaries, who grew so powerful they were feared by the world around, before disappearing into the shadows.

Before them, before humanity, there was the Cobra-La. A race of humanoid reptiles who quickly outpaced humanity in the time it took them to reach the height of civilization. Their technology came not from metal, but from flesh, and fungus. This spared the Earth from the Destroyer God, or so they claim, but it did not save their own civilization. Though their species survived, they were driven beneath the Earth as humanity took control of the world.

Millions of years ago, before the first human took in its first miserable breath, there was Cybertron. A world of metal and energy. They were not the first civilization, and they would not be the last, but they were the most advanced. Even amongst mechanical races, they were leagues beyond what could be comprehended. Most bizarrely, as time would tell, their metal brains operated identically to the organic brains of humans, and the Cobra-La.

The world ended with the birth of Richard Arkwright, for with him, it would choke in the smog and drown in the pollution. The world ended with the rise of Cobra, and the bloody war it would wage in the last act of Earth. The world ended with the Cobra-La, who refused to let humanity destroy what little they had left. The world ended with Cybertron, once its Energon ran dry, and they needed a new source of fuel. The name of the one who destroyed Earth is,

"Megatron!" Red Wing shouted as he entered the throne room, earning the cold scowls of Soundwave, Bludgeon, Knock Out, and Shockwave.

With a small and hideous smile, Megatron asked, "Whatever is it, Red Wing?"

"We've found him!" Red Wing informed, almost laughing with joy. "We've finally found the last Prime!"

**Iacon, where it all began…**

He knew they were coming even before the proximity alarms began to ring. It was only ever a matter of time. The Autobots were all dead, or in hiding. There was no resistance. It had only been him for years, and now, it would soon be no one. The only thing the last Prime could do was give his enemies one last fight, and to kill as many of them as possible. It could never have ended any other way. The moment Megatron merged Cybertron and Earth together, the fates of every living being on both planets was sealed.

With a gun in each hand, and an axe on his back, Ultra Magnus awaited for the assault to begin. It was as Optimus Prime had once told him, long ago. Till all are one. His Optical Sensors began to overheat, and much like a human, he wept. Though it wasn't water that covered his cheeks, they were still tears of sorrow. It wasn't supposed to be like this. They should have won. They were the heroes, and the heroes always win.

In moments, the ruins of Iacon was reduced to burning debris with not a building left standing. Skyscrapers, larger than what humans could have ever attempted, fell to nothing. The ground shook for miles as iron and glass shattered. Molten metal flooded the streets, while flames fell from the sky. The Decepticon Seekers were extremely efficient. Which is why, after bombing the city, half their three-dozen transformed and began to shift through the unrecognizable remains.

As Red-Wing lifted the remains of an iron wall, he saw the barrel of a rifle, a flash of red, and then nothing ever again. Ultra Magnus let out a roar of fury as he began firing at every Seeker in sight, his aim exceptional even for a Cybertronian. Despite this, they still far outnumbered him, and they themselves were excellent shots. Purple bolts struck Ultra Magnus across his body, slowly eating away at his reinforced frame. Miles away, the sight of red and purple lasers flying through the air was beautiful for the children watching and horrifying for their parents.

Somehow, at last, there was only Ultra Magnus was left. He dropped the twin guns to the ground, before collapsing. His wounds hurt, even if they weren't fatal, and he didn't have a medic to patch him up like in the old days. Then there was another flash of purple, more intense than those that came before, and Ultra Magnus was on his back. He could feel the hole in his left arm but didn't dare look at it. It would only hold him back.

As he rose to his feet, the wounded arm hung from several wires and a piece of metal, doing little more than hold Ultra Magnus back. The last Prime pulled the axe from his back and looked to his attacker, none other than Megatron. The same tyrant that had killed Optimus Prime during the Earth Wars. With a smile still held on his face, Megatron lowered his cannon, and summoned up an Energon mace in his right hand.

"Just you and me, Prime," the tyrant cackled. "Now, where have I heard that before?"

"One shall stand," Ultra Magnus began.

"One shall fall," Megatron triumphantly finished.

Ultra Magnus ran forward, screaming his battle cry as Megatron swung his mace. With great speed, Ultra Magnus was able to block the attack with his axe, grappling the chain. It seemed as though he may stand a chance against the warlord. Then Megatron pulled his mace back, and with it came the axe, before he swung it forward once more. Ultra Magnus' head was crushed before he could register the attack, and he hit the ground a second later, Energon leaking out of his cranial cavity.

"You'll never beat us," Ultra Magnus moaned as he attempted to stand back up, though he failed to move anything other than his lips.

"And why is that?" Megatron asked, as he stepped over the fallen Prime.

"Because we are," he began, before Megatron stomped down on his head, destroying all that was left of it.

"I don't care," Megatron cooed.

The first of his kind, the first and only Tron, Megatron turned and walked away from Iacon. All of his enemies were now dead. He would send the Scavengers to pick apart Ultra Magnus' body. To bring the important pieces back for display. His Spark would make a most excellent exhibit in the Decepticon museum, for all to see. It was important to remind his subjects of what happened to rebels. As of now though, there were no rebels left to inspire more.

**The Grey Wastes, Neo Russia…**

A man walks through the ash storm, dressed in tattered black fatigues and a black air mask and goggles. The air mask has trouble keeping up with the amount of ash in the air, which would make breathing difficult for almost any other human. His left lens had been broken in a previous fight, leaving one eye, closed as it was, exposed to the storm. Though his hair was blond, it had been caked in the ash, and was unrecognizable. The only weapon he carried with him was a sword, held at his left side like a samurai. Though his clan was far more distinct than any samurai.

The man wandered from place to place, with a duty more important than any other living human's. It was not some grand task from a god or leader, or even a duty. It was cold blooded vengeance. A path of murder and espionage against those that had stolen what came before. The man has no name. He had never been given one, in truth. Though once, for a time, he had those he considered friends, and they gave him a name. But they were all dead now, and with them, so died the name of the silent man. Or so he thought.

"Stop, scavenger!" a voice spits in Russian, though he can't see it beyond the ash.

"Place your hands over your head, prepare to be taken into custody," another says.

He has no time for this. The man reaches for his sword, but then a pistol presses against his head. He hasn't been taken by surprise in years. The voice that speaks is familiar. "Not so fast," it says, before it recognizes him, too. In English it asks, "Snake Eyes!? Is that you!?"

The man nods. Behind his mask, he smiles, for the first time in eight years.

"Never thought I'd see you again!" Helix practically shouts, before wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

"Helix, report! What's happening!? Who is this!?" Brekhov shouts at her, stepping closer to the pair so that Snake Eyes can look over him.

Time had not been kind to the colonel. His hair, or what was left of it, was whiter than the ash, and his face was covered in wrinkles. Still, the old man was as stubborn as always, and looked over Snake Eyes with suspicion, not moving his rifle away. The silent assassin respected it. After all, he was perhaps the most dangerous man in the world.

"This is Snake Eyes, boss," Helix replied in Russian. "One of my ol' G.I. Joe buddies."

"Joe!?" the old man practically laughs. "He looks younger than you. Or what I can see, anyway."

"You're gonna have to tell me your secret, Snake," Helix said as she began to walk forward. "Come on. We'll get you something good to eat. Well, better than whatever you can find out here."

Two hours later…

Snake Eyes sat at a long table, nearly every other seat occupied by a militia member. Some of them were familiar, some weren't. Helix sat to his left; Schrage go his right. Also seated were Brekhov, Daina, Stormavik, and two others he didn't recognize. A third stranger dressed in a rather new looking Soviet uniform much like the others prepared their plates just out of sight. Above Brekhov at the head of the table, mounted on a wall, rests a hammer and sickle.

As the nearly forgotten smell of ham floods into Snake Eyes' nostrils, Brekhov says, "Heh, doubt you ever thought you would be dining with us, no?"

"Neither did Helix," Daina said from across the table.

"None of us wanted Cold War to end like this," Brekhov continued. "But now, we're all allies. You understand that, Snake Eyes?"

The former Joe nodded.

"Why don't you take off your mask?" Stormavik asked. "Or do you have something to hide?"

Without answering, Snake Eyes reached up, and took off his goggles. Both brown eyes were now visible to the others, along with scar tissue. He pulled off the air mask, and Schrage nearly gagged at the sight of Snake Eyes' burned and torn face. But the assassin did not react, his eyes did not so much as waver. He was used to people reacting this way. The only one who didn't seem to care was Helix, who was just happy to see her old friend again.

"What are you doing out here, anyway?" she asked as the soldier began laying out plates.

Snake Eyes looked down at the small slither of ham, potatoes, and some strange vegetable before looking back to Helix. He then raised his right hand and pointed under his left hand, before raising his right hand upwards and making a shape similar to a bent V. The Oktober Guard were left confused by this, as a near dead language was brought back to life in Helix's head. She watched in horror as he repeated the gestures, hoping she had been wrong.

"Kill. Snake," he signed once more.

"No, Snake Eyes, you can't do that," Helix said in disbelief.

"What's he saying?" Daina asked.

"He says…" Helix began, before Snake Eyes nodded at her. "He wants to kill Cobra Commander."


End file.
